Merlin Missing Scenes
by Feldka
Summary: Scenes from each episode that never actually made it on screen. Filling in the gaps with bromance, humor, and feels.
1. Series 1, Episode 1

**A/N: Ah, just rewatched the series. Still terribly attached. ;-; And now I've set out to fill in the missing holes that the show doesn't quite cover. All in canon, and trying really hard to capture the characters right. **

**Series 1, Episode 1 Missing scenes: **

**1. Hunith and Merlin's last night together before he left for Camelot.  
2. Merlin stepping in on the training ground bullying from Gwen's perspective.  
3. How Gaius manage to "pull some strings" to get Merlin out of the dungeons.  
4. Did anyone else notice Merlin was standing right next to Morris during the feast? Surely the must have talked about the previous day's events. (My assumption is that Morris is in fact Arthur's previous manservant, since he does appear again when Merlin is briefly fired).  
5. Arthur arguing with Uther about Merlin and Arthur having to fire poor Morris.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

She knew she had made the right decision. Ealdor had no room for someone as special as her son. The tensions grew with each passing day, and Hunith could little ignore the harsh whispers and the lingering glares of the other villagers. Merlin had a kind heart, but a curious eye and a clumsy way; her son would've been a handful even had he not been born wielding magic as though it were every much a part of him as his very breath. She just knew he was special, far beyond his gifts. She knew Merlin was destined. But not here, not in Ealdor, not with her.

Hunith could no longer help Merlin, and her defenses would soon fail her in protecting her son from the fear of the villagers. It had been with heavy heart that she'd approached Merlin about her plans to send him away. His reaction, to her relief (or perhaps disappointment), had been cautiously eager, hopeful even.

"Camelot?" he said thoughtfully, a familiar smile creeping across his face.

"Yes," Hunith replied gently. "You are to seek out Gaius. He is the court physician, and he will see that you are looked after. I have already sent message of your coming." Merlin's smile faltered.

"But what of you mother?"

"Oh my boy," she smiled, caressing his cheek in one hand, "I am more than capable of taking care of myself. My worry is only for you."

"And Gaius?" he asked, a hint of hope creeping into his voice. "Does he know? I - I mean what I am. Why would he have me?"

Because he's my brother, Hunith thought. Because he was once a practiced sorcerer and would understand. Because he would bend over backwards to protect those wrongfully persecuted, as he had done for Merlin's father. "Gaius is a good man," she stated simply. "He will accept you as his own, I know it."

"So he doesn't know," Merlin sighed. Gaius did not know, and Hunith could never risk sending that information with a messenger. But Hunith also knew her son could little hide his talent, and her brother was a shrewd man.

They had had an unusually plentiful supper that night: lamb stew, a whole loaf of fresh bread, four tomatoes, and an apple each. Hunith had evaded Merlin's protests by insisting he needed the extra energy for his journey to Camelot; it was a gift she could rarely afford him. Afterwards she helped him pack what few belongings he had before retiring for the night.

At first sun, Merlin was already bouncing on his heels at the door. Hunith had carefully tied a neckerchief about his throat before he could escape her grasp, then squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"Be well, my boy," she said softly.

"This is not goodbye," Merlin replied, leaning his forehead against his mother's for a moment. "Take care of yourself while I'm gone." He lifted his eyes to hers and smiled brightly. "Well... wish me luck!" And with that, he turned on foot and walked towards the looming woods.

"Good luck, my boy. God save you," Hunith whispered unheard. Yes, she knew she had made the right decision, but that did not stop the aching in her heart that grew deeper with every step her son took away.

* * *

Gwen had a massive list of chores to attend to that afternoon for Lady Morgana. Her mind was focused on little else. So as she first began beating out her lady's bedding over the window, she paid little attention to the on-goings of the training ground below. Arthur was being his usual arrogant self, she was sure, bullying Morris to the point of abuse. The prince was never easy on his servants, but there was little she could do to help, and openly gaping at the incident was a form of humiliation she would not readily afford Morris. So she set her mind to ignoring the scene that played out below.

That is, until a strange raven haired young man stepped in. Gwen laughed as she swore she heard the boy call the prince of Camelot an ass. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment for him, a smile touching her lips at the thought of a commoner putting Arthur in his place. But the smile quickly faded as she watched the boy switch from bravado to stupidity and take a swing at Arthur. She could not quell the gasp that escaped from her lips when the prince twisted the young man's arm painfully behind his back.

As the guards hauled the boy away, Gwen made a mentally note to meet him if he wasn't hanged in the morning. Any stranger willing to stand up to her arrogant prince was a stranger worth knowing.

* * *

"Take this drought before you go to sleep, sire," Gaius said, handing a light green tincture to the prince. "It should help ease the soreness from training."

"Thank you Gaius," Arthur said, setting the little vile on his bedside table. When Gaius didn't immediately move away, the young prince paused expectantly. "Is there something else?"

"Oh, well. It's nothing really," Giaus said, waving a hand. "It's just, I have an awful ache in these old bones and it seems my most recent charge has run off." The older man sagged with the weight of his words, feigning a look of fatigue and frustration.

"Gaius, I didn't know you'd hired on," Arthur said with a smile. "Who's the unfortunate charge?"

"His name is Merlin," the physician said slowly. Arthur's face contorted into a sour, annoyed expression, confirming Giaus' suspicions. He had heard rumor of a commoner attacking the prince, and he couldn't shake the feeling all day that his new ward was involved. When Merlin had not returned from his deliveries, Gaius had decided to set out and discover why. He'd only had a day with the boy, but his knack for trouble was already becoming readily apparent.

"Your charge has been sent to the dungeons," Arthur spat. "I hate to inform you of it, but it seems you've hired an insolent, disrespectful idiot."

"Quite," Gaius sighed. "The boy is not from these parts, sire, and I'm afraid he does not think before speaking." Arthur scoffed. "Surely you could grant a little clemency."

"I will not be spoken to in such a way by peasants, Gaius. He is lucky I don't have him hanged for it." Arthur's hands went to his hips, face stern. "No, I think a good week in the dungeons will teach him a much needed lesson."

"Very well, sire. It's just your people that concern me."

"My people?"

"Well I am an old man, Arthur. I can't keep up like I used to. Without Merlin, I'm afraid my work may suffer."

Arthur raised a brow, calculating the physician's words for a moment. "He must be punished Gaius, I can't just let him free. I would look weak."

"Oh of course, sire," Gaius said. "I'm not saying don't punish him. I'm just saying there must be a punishment that's a little more... time friendly."

"You had something in mind?" Arthur asked. Gaius smiled, though he felt a pang of guilt. Merlin really was not off to a very good start in Camelot.

* * *

"Merlin." Morris jumped at the outstretched hand, preoccupied with the prince's wine. He traced the hand back to the face to which it belonged and found himself face-to-face with the man who had stood up for him the previous day on the training grounds. Morris was relieved to see he had been released and appeared for the most part unscathed.

"I'm Morris," he said, shaking Merlin's hand. "Sorry about, you know, yesterday," he fumbled awkwardly.

"Oh yes," Merlin replied cheerily. "You should've told me I was insulting a prince. I would've come on much stronger." Morris shot an eye towards the head table, but Arthur was too engaged with the feast to notice much of anything else, so he let an easy smile fall upon his lips.

"I half expected to see you on the executioner's block this morning, truth be told," Morris replied. He was trying to be lighthearted, but the truth of the statement lent too much guilt to his voice.

"Ah, well," was all Merlin really had to offer, tilting his head with a smile. He stood with his arms clasped behind his back, surveying the room.

"Are you... supposed to be doing something?" Morris asked, uncertain of Merlin's presence at such an elaborate event.

"Working." Merlin said, matter-of-factly.

"Working?"

"Working," he repeated with that full-faced grin. "Extra hired help for the feast. Though... nobody seems to notice, so nobody's given me anything to do really."

"Ah, lucky," Morris replied, looking morosely at his master.

"Are you Arthur's...?" Merlin trailed off, not certain how to address the servant.

"Slave?" Morris joked. He sighed and added, "I'm his manservant."

"Ah, I don't envy you friend," Merlin said, patting Morris on the shoulder. He seemed like he was about to say something more, but was interrupted by the booming voice of the king.

"We have enjoyed twenty years of peace and prosperity," Uther said, standing before the ceremony. "It has brought the kingdom and myself many pleasures, but few can compare with the honour of introducing Lady Helen of Mora."

Morris pulled Merlin back towards the side stairway, an acceptable distance from the nobility of the room, while Lady Helen's voice rang through the banquet hall.

* * *

"Father, I must insist," Arthur argued, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. "The man's an idiot, even if he saved my life."

"I wont hear another word of it Arthur," Uther spat. "I will not see that boy's debts unpaid."

"Did you hear how he spoke to me. He attacked me in public for goodness sake!"

"Oh, and I'm sure he was unprovoked." Arthur rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to protest but Uther cut him off, "That is enough. The boy is your servant, whether you like it or not. Am I understood?" Arthur rested his hands on his hips, mouth twitching as if eager to continue the argument. Instead he let out a sigh.

"Yes father."

"Good." Uther said curtly, storming out of the prince's room as Morris entered carrying a basket of Arthur's freshly laundered clothing.

"Morris," Arthur said dispirited. "I am sorry to inform you that your services are no longer required."

"My lord?" Morris asked in alarm. "Do I do something-"

"No, no," Arthur replied. "My father has seen fit to assign me a new manservant." He sat on the bed, fuming.

"But sire, I-"

"You will still be a welcome servant of the castle. You'll have to report to the steward." Arthur cut him off, reading the fear in his servant's eyes. Morris had not been his servant terribly long, but Arthur had never had any complaints against him. He hadn't had many compliments either, but at least the man attended his duties in a respectful manner. Arthur groaned internally.

"Thank you sire," Morris said, setting down the laundry and turning to leave.

"Morris?" Arthur called, before the boy was out the door.

"Yes sire?"

"One last task, fetch me Merlin and make haste. I have a healthy list of chores for him already." Morris gave his prince an odd smile before leaving the room. Arthur sighed and laid back on his bed, feet still on the floor, ticking off the most tedious chores he could think off. He grinned slightly. This actually might be a bit of fun.


	2. Series 1, Episode 2

**A/N: Yay fast update. Really enjoying working on the characterization of our most beloved cast. **

**Series 1, Episode 2 "Valiant" Missing Scenes:  
1. A continuation of Merlin and Arthur's little training session.  
2. How Merlin wound up taking armor etiquette lessons from Gwen the day before the tournament. (I miss cute, awkward Gwen.)  
3. Merlin informing Gaius that Arthur sacked him.  
4. Gwen's reaction to Merlin needing a wheelbarrow to steal a statue to save Arthur.  
5. Protective!Gaius keep watch over Merlin.  
6. What led Arthur to his late night practice session in the courtyard.  
7. A little fluff drabble of Merlin returning to Arthur's servitude.**

* * *

_**Scene**** One**_

"That was just the warm up," Arthur said with a devilish smile. "How's your mace work coming along?" The prince swung a mace above his head and Merlin groaned. "Right, on your feet," Arthur ordered.

Merlin dragged himself slowly off the ground, fumbling for his helmet, his arms were already tingling with pain. Arthur gave a satisfied smirk as Merlin reached weakly for his shield, hoisting it up to cover his torso. The prince knew he was pushing his new servant; he could the see strain and resentment in Merlin's eyes. But to Arthur's surprise, Merlin pushed back. As much as the idiot annoyed him, the young prince had to admit it was a welcome change. Any other servant would be at his feet, licking his boots with a single blow. But there was just something different about Merlin, a certain bravery or stupidity - he couldn't decide which. It made Arthur want to see just how far he could push - or maybe he really was just an arrogant prat after all.

"Right. Left. Left. Shield," Arthur cried as he swung the mace down hard. He continued raining blows down on his servant, who responded in turn with a mixture of ow's and ah's, for the better part of fifteen minutes.

"Is this really necessary?" Merlin panted heavily, dropping his shield slightly just as Arthur swung the mace down towards his servant's left shoulder. Arthur realized Merlin's error, trying to counteract the momentum of his swing too little too late. The mace collided with Merlin's shoulder armor, which absorbed most of the damage, but sent the thin boy sprawling to the ground with a weak little, "_Ow_."

"Honestly, Merlin. Do you even know what a shield is for?" Arthur teased, dropping his mace to the ground. Merlin groaned, cradling his left shoulder with his right hand.

"If I stay down, will you still hit me?" he asked slowly.

"Probably," Arthur shrugged.

"Right," Merlin said, but he made no move to stand. The prince rolled his eyes and turned to walk away from his manservant. "And where are you going?" Merlin asked, pulling himself up on his right elbow.

"I told you, I've got a tournament to win," Arthur said over his shoulder. "We can't all be so lucky as to spend the day lying in the grass, soaking up the sun, now can we Merlin?" Merlin scoffed, glaring at his master's backside as he made his way to the castle grounds. He made a small show of pulling himself back onto his feet, leaning heavily on his shield and gasping at the aches that seemed to resonate from every muscle in his body. How anyone could consider this sort of thing _fun_ was way beyond him. He looked down at his shield and considered abandoning it in the clearing, but instead settled on half carrying, half dragging the equipment back towards the armory. The journey took thrice as long as it ought to have, and after he had finished cleaning and polishing everything, Merlin could hardly so much as swing his arms freely without wincing in pain as he made his way back to the court physician.

* * *

_**Scene**** Two**_

Gwen had to admit, she had taken a bit of a liking to the prince's new manservant. His willingness to stand up to Arthur was refreshing to say the least, but there was something else about him. He was good spirited, cheeky, and his smile - well at the very least, she was glad for his presence, not that anything was going to happen between them, obviously. But still, she was quite fond of him, and it was this fondness that caused her to give pause outside the armory as she was making her way to her lady's chambers.

Merlin stood with his back to Guinevere, holding one of Arthur's vambrace's in the air. He twisted and turned the piece of equipment, examining the small buckles and latches with wary concern. He tugged the vambrace onto his own arm, twisting his wrist and smiling slightly in satisfaction. Gwen couldn't help but let out a small laugh, causing her new friend to jump in panic, knocking half of Arthur's equipment to the ground as he turned to face Gwen.

"Oh, Gwen," Merlin said, flinching as the steel crashed to the ground, smiling through a grimace. "Hello."

"You've got it on the wrong arm," she offered with a smile, setting down her basket and moving to help Merlin. She pulled the vambrace off of Merlin's wrist and moved it to his other lower arm, flipping his wrist out. "See this latch here?" She pointed down, Merlin furrowing his brow in study. "It attaches over here, and you can tighten it right here." She finished, holding Merlin's arm up for him to see. She realized she was holding him for too long, and as their gaze met she let go in embarrassment. Her cheeks flushed, eyes averted. Merlin scratched at the back of his neck and smiled.

"Oh right, yeah," he said. "Thanks." The young serving boy heaved a heavy sigh. "Well that's one piece mastered, only what? Twenty pieces to go?"

"I could help, you know," Gwen said.

"Really? You would do that for me?" Merlin asked hopefully, still holding his arm in the air.

"Of course, anything to make your life a little easier," she rushed. "I mean, not yours, you know. Just life in general." Gwen waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I'd do it for anyone, obviously." She brushed a small lock of hair from her face, turning away awkwardly.

"Right," Merlin said slowly.

"You can stop by my house tonight in the lower town. Bring some armor with you and we'll get you sorted out."

"Ah, you're a life savor Gwen," Merlin said, a huge grin plastered to his face as he squeezed her shoulders gently and turned to run out of the room to finish his master's chores. She heard him slide to a stop and run back in, unlatching the vambrace on his wrist with his teeth and tossing it onto a table. "Wont be needing that."

Gwen laughed as he sped back out of the room. She leaned down to pickup the armor he seemed to have forgotten that was strewn across the floor. She had already begun counting the hours until his visit.

* * *

_**Scene Three**_

Merlin burst through Gaius' door, brow furrowed in frustration as he stormed towards his room.

"Merlin, what in blazes-" Gaius began, but was interrupted.

"He sacked me!" Merlin shouted angrily. "Trying to save that arrogant little prat, and he sacks me." Gaius gave his ward a grave look and calmly offered him a seat.

"I am sorry Merlin," he said. "Ewan's death was unfortunate in its timing. You must understand Arthur is under a lot of pressure."

"No," Merlin drew out childishly. "I just - uh!" The young warlock threw his hands up in the air in apparent dissatisfaction for any words that might convey his anguish. "What am I supposed to do Gaius?"

"What can you do?" Gaius asked sincerely, shaking his solemnly. "You need to convince Arthur not to fight. He must see reason."

"Oh yeah. Yeah," replied his ward, hands on hips. "Did I leave out the part where he hates me?"

"Merlin," Gaius said sternly. But Merlin was already up in a fit and heading towards the door. "Merlin? Merlin, where do you think you're going?"

"To talk to someone about my so-called destiny," he spat, slamming the door behind him. Gaius sighed deeply and closed his eyes before setting back to eat his supper. He found he no longer had an appetite and instead began mixing together a potion to keep his mind occupied on something, anything besides his raven-haired mess of a ward.

* * *

_**Scene Four**_

"A wheelbarrow?" Gwen asked, utterly confused as Merlin basically mounted one of the dog statues nearby. "But, what-"

"Is that a no?" Merlin asked, frowning slightly and measuring up the stonework before him.

"Well no, my father has one for-"

"Perfect!" The prince's manservant basically ran next to Gwen as they went to fetch her father's wheelbarrow.

"Merlin, slow down," Guinevere protested, as she struggled to keep up.

"No time, got a royal prat to save," Merlin shouted back to her.

"With a statue of a dog?" she asked stopping in the middle of the street.

"Right you are!" he replied with a smile. Ah, Gwen thought, so Merlin had lost his mind. That much was apparent.

She stood uncomfortably as she watched Merlin slowly try to lift the dog statue into her father's wheelbarrow. She couldn't help biting her lip and glancing about them warily, as the townspeople openly stared in confusion and amusement.

"A little help?" she heard Merlin ask from behind the statue. His hands weirdly cradling the stone beast around the waist as he huffed and lifted the thing a few inches off the ground. When he didn't get an immediate response, the servant gave Guinevere a perplexed look from beneath one of the dog's legs. "Gwen?" he wheezed.

"Uhm," she said, twisting her fingers. "I'm pretty sure this is illegal Merlin. Not that I don't want to help you, it's just..." Merlin gave her an innocent, confused look from beneath the leg and with one big puff managed to hoist the thing fully into the wheelbarrow on his own.

"Ah, much better. No worries Gwen," he said, twisting his head with a smile. "But I should be off, wish me luck!"

"Good luck?" It came out more as a question than an actual well wishing. Though she was certain Merlin had hardly noticed as he hurried away, wheelbarrow in hand. Gwen wrinkled her eyebrows and gave a little, "Huh..." before resuming her duties.

* * *

_**Scene**** Five**_

"What are you doing with that?" Gaius said in exasperation as his ward waltzed through the door with a wheelbarrow containing one of the statues from the square.

"I'm going to let everyone see the snakes for themselves," Merlin replied proudly, wheeling the statue to his chambers and closing the door behind him.

It was only a matter of minutes before Gaius could here the young warlock's chants echoing through the doorway. It was the unmistakable language of magic, and Gaius could do little more than mentally scold the boy for practicing it so blatantly. He knew Merlin meant well, and he also knew that Merlin may in fact be Arthur's only hope against knight Valiant on the morrow. So he let the boy practice in peace, instead resolving himself to keep guard all night, lest a wayward patient sought the physician's help only to hear his ward reading spells.

Fortunately it was a perfectly uneventful evening, and when Merlin's chanting died down into soft, drowsy slurs, Gaius decided to afford himself what little sleep he could.

The old man was up and moving at first light: collecting herbs, calling on patients, making deliveries. It was almost midday before he realized the final round of the tournament would begin soon. He hastened to the grounds - his presence an obligation in case either man were to be injured. Gaius was surprised to find Merlin absent from the festivities. He spotted Lady Morgana and her servant preparing to take their seats and made his way quickly to them.

"Guinevere?" he asked of the lady's servant.

"Gaius," Gwen said with a smile. "What is it?"

"You haven't by chance seen Merlin lately, have you?"

"Not since yesterday," she said, slightly perplexed.

"Thank you," he said quickly, turning on foot and racing as fast as his old legs could back to his chambers. He burst through the door just as Merlin was closing his. Wheezing he spat out, "Arthur's fighting Valiant!"

"I know. I'm on my way," Merlin said, charging for the door before pausing a moment and throwing an arm out to Gaius. "Oh, whatever you do, don't go in my room. I'll deal with it later." Gaius raised an eyebrow as Merlin ran out, casting a curious look towards his ward's chambers.

* * *

_**Scene**** Six**_

Merlin and Gaius were not the only ones for whom sleep had evaded that evening. Arthur paced back and forth in his chambers. He felt tense, aggravated, frustrated, and a small part of him that he refused to recognize was... fearful. He believed his former servant, though it pained him to admit it and though his father had branded him a coward for it. Valiant would not play fair on the morrow. Arthur could feel the truth of it in his gut, and it infuriated him. There was a knock on his door.

"For the last time Merlin, leave me be!" Arthur shouted with venom. But it was not Merlin who opened the door.

"Dinner, my lord," Morris said, staring at the ground as he brought the plate over to Arthur's table. Arthur rolled his eyes, admittedly slightly disappointed that it was not Merlin barging in - at least he could take his frustration out on him with some satisfaction. "Is there anything else you'll be needing, sire."

"No," Arthur huffed, crossing his arms. But as Morris was about to exit the room, he changed his mind. "Actually, wait. Fetch me my sword and armor."

"Yes sire," Morris said, bowing slightly, and within the hour the prince found himself in full gear, wielding his sword throughout the square. It was therapeutic, reassuring. He imagined his blade slashing through unseen figures - mostly Valiant, sometimes Merlin, the idiot, and sometimes even his father. The blade gave him confidence and peace of mind. If he were to die with it in hand come midday tomorrow, that would not be such a bad thing. It was the way any honorable man should die. It was only the thought of being brought down by snake venom that chased away whatever solace he might have found. He cried out in anger and slashed harder at the air, panting as he leaned upon his sword and shook his head.

There was no honor in dying at the hands of magic.

* * *

_**Scene**** Seven**_

"You missed a spot," Arthur chided, arms crossed as he watched his manservant scrub his floor with nothing more than a bucket and a small brush.

"Where?" Merlin asked indignantly. Arthur tapped a small pile of dirt from his boot and and traced it across the floor with his foot.

"There," he said pointedly. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"You know, you really are no good with this whole apologizing business," Merlin spat, sitting back instead of moving to clean up the pile of dirt.

"Who said anything about apologizing?" Arthur asked, scrunching his nose in annoyance. But for a moment, his features soften, and he simply nodded. A gesture that said more than his words could. "It's good to have you back."

"Really?" Merlin said, a gloating grin plastered to his face.

"Oh, don't let it go to your head. I only meant a half-decent servant is hard to find." Arthur scoffed. "I still expect to see my clothes washed, my armor repaired, my boots cleaned, and my stables mucked by morning."

"Of course, my lord," Merlin replied feigning formality, the smile still unfaltering.

"Oh shut up," Arthur said, kicking over Merlin's bucket to the protests of his servant.


	3. Series 1, Episode 3

**A/N: Very short, semi-lazy update. There really were not a lot of gaps in this episode that I thought needed to be filled - or I'm just excited to write an angsty chapter for the next episode, who knows. I was originally going to include a little drabble of Arthur talking to Morgana about Merlin's "confession," but they already kind of touch base on that towards the end of the episode, and I didn't really like how the scene came together (felt too OOC). Also, side note, I don't ship Gwen/Merlin, but you have to admit she was adorable towards him when the show first began. (;**

**Series 1, Episode 3 "The Mark of Nimeuh" Missing Scenes:**

**1. Morgana's conversation with Gwen in the dungeon.  
2. Guinevere reflecting on Merlin's promises and her demise while in her cell.**

* * *

**Scene One**

"Gwen?" Morgana asked gently, staring at the small pile of dirty rags that was her servant. Gwen stood to face Morgana through the bars of her dungeon cell, her cheeks were tear streaked, her hair littered with hay, her clothes lightly stained. This was not the same Guinevere that Morgana had seen only that morning with a smile on her face, humming softly. The light was gone from her.

"My lady," Gwen said shakily, absently combing at her disheveled locks and bowing slightly. "I am so sorry." Gwen couldn't bring her eyes to Morgana's. She knew her lady believed her innocence; Morgana had been the only voice of defense on her behalf before the court. No, her sorrow was not with concern that Morgana believed her betrayal; it was for the fact that she was going to be forced to leave her lady's side. Gwen had been in Morgana's servitude since the two were children. Though they led starkly different lives, there was an unspeakable, unbreakable bond between them. Guinevere even dared to think of her lady as a close friend.

"Don't be," Morgana said. "This is all just a terrible misunderstanding. Uther will see reason - he has to." There was desperation and denial in her voice.

"I'm afraid," Gwen whispered, pulling slightly at her shackles, head bowed. "You never really think about it, do you, you know? But, I just..."

"You're not going to die Gwen," Morgana said stubbornly.

"Lina-" Gwen began, her voice cracking. She brought a hand to her mouth for a moment, trying to regain her composure.

"Lina?"

"She would make a great servant," Gwen pushed through. "I mean, obviously my recommendation counts for little, but she is good at her work and very kind, and-"

"Gwen, stop. Please," Morgana begged. "I don't want another servant."

"Thank you," Gwen said, tears falling once more. "It has been an honor, my lady."

Morgana just shook her head, her own tears threatening to spill over and destroy whatever facade of comfort she thought she could wear in the presence of her servant. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, and replied hoarsely, "No. Thank _you_. I will do everything I can to get you out of here... I promise." And with that, Morgana forced herself to turn away, the sobs already aching in her throat. She ran the moment she was out of Gwen's view, barely noticing Merlin as she hurried up the stares.

* * *

**Scene Two**

Her execution had been moved up. From her cell window, she could see the pyre being built. She had stood watching in sick fascination for a few moments before the fear had pulled her to the floor. Her muscles spasmed inward, twisting everything towards her gut as she lay in the fetal position trying not to cry out. She lay that way for a long while, unable to combat the fear until her mind and body grew fatigued. Slowly her limbs relaxed, and though she was wide awake, staring at the dirty walls, she felt nothing. Empty, cold, alone. Waiting for the end. The hours dragged cruelly, and Gwen could find little in the way of distraction or relief - save one voice. She almost believed she had imagined it, that she had drifted off unknowingly and dreamed his words into reality.

"Gwen? I'm going to get you out. I will." There had been something innocent and assured in Merlin's voice. It made Gwen's heart leap for a moment, feeling returning, stretching across the emptiness. She was afraid to hope; it was a luxury she could not afford. But it wasn't hope that filled her - it was warmth. She had few friends, but look how hard they would fight for her. She cursed Merlin under her breath slightly as the tears returned, a mixture of guilt and grief, love and loss taking over. She resolved herself to focus only on their faces - her father, her lady, and Merlin. And with that image, she found herself drifting into a restless sleep.


	4. Series 1, Episode 4

**A/N: Ah, sorry this took forever to get up. I wrote it and re-wrote it and re-wrote it until I finally settled on something I kind of liked. The premise is based on the idea that Merlin had to be to some degree lucid while Arthur was on his quest. He knew what was going on, even if he didn't remember knowing. So I rolled with that and finally hatched out a Ghost!Merlin fic that's at least acceptable. I wanted to finish the whole scene on Merlin saying his farewells to Gaius, but I thought the ending that developed as Arthur left the cave felt more organic.**

**Series 1, Episode 4 "The Poisoned Chalice" missing scene:  
1. The majority of the episode from an ethereal Merlin's point of view.**

* * *

"I'm fine, really," Merlin said shakily, staring up into the face of his master. He'd never seen Arthur look upon him with such deep... concern? The thought was unsettling. A commotion rose about them, swords being drawn, curses flying from either side of the room. Gwen and Gaius were suddenly at Merlin's side as well, each equally as etched with worry.

"Merlin. Can you hear me?" Gaius asked, reaching for his ward.

"Gaius, I'm-"

"We have to get him back to my chambers. Bring the goblet. I need to identify the poison."

"Wha-?" Merlin asked propping himself up on his elbows, feeling entirely disoriented. And then his world did a slight flip as he watched the prince lift his body - _his body. _"Oh that is just not right," Merlin said as Arthur raced out of the room behind Gaius and Gwen, his limp form slung over his master's shoulder. Merlin's mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened. He had drank the wine from Bayard's poisoned chalice. The wine meant for Arthur. And it had been fine. Hadn't it? _No, _Merlin thought in alarm. But it hadn't. The memory of fire in his throat returned, a suffocating burning sensation that had taken his feet out from under him. He had crashed to the floor, and it wasn't until the cold stone raced up to meet him that he felt a sudden release, relief.

"Oh no," the young warlock whispered, sitting and staring down at his translucent form. "No, no, no." All around him Bayard and his men were being led at sword point from the banquet hall. The world had taken on a soft and hazy edge. Shouts and curses flew freely between both parties, but their words were distant, muffled. Merlin would've had to strain to understand them, but he could not bring himself to focus on them. He could barely focus on anything save one thought that resonated deep within whatever spirited form of himself he now possessed: he was dead.

"This isn't right," he said, hands going to his hair in frustration. Surely he should've had time. Gaius should've had time. He knew his chances weren't guaranteed, but he should've still had a chance. Gaius. Gaius would never forgive him. What had he done? Saved Arthur. Fulfilled his destiny... Some destiny, he thought bitterly.

He took in a ragged breath. Wait, no. The dead didn't breathe. But he had felt it, if only for a moment, a painful rasp as his chest tried with difficulty to fill with air. The room swam, a sea of blues and reds, his lungs - _his lungs_ wheezing in desperation. And then he fell into a deep black... nothingness.

* * *

"... he's struggling to breathe. Gwen, fetch me some water and a towel." Merlin moaned, his lungs whining, chest burning as Gaius' words washed over him. It took him entirely too long and entirely too much focus to process the conversation that ensued, his mind fighting to recall what was happening.

"Is he going to be alright?" Arthur... worried?

"He's burning up." Gaius. No wonder. The room _was_ blisteringly hot.

"You can cure him, can't you Gaius?" Ah Gwen, not you too.

"I wont know until I can identify the poison." Merlin's eye's shot open. _Poison._ The fire in his chest receded, replaced by the burn of his memories boring back into his skull. He had been poisoned. He had died. He was dead. How could he have forgotten that? _Focus Merlin_, he berated himself, there was something in the words he had just heard that should be clicking. The young warlock sprung to his feet with disconcerting grace. The room had the same soft hazy edge as the banquet hall, as if he was surrounded in a heavy mist. The blurred figures of Gaius and Arthur stood hovering over something, but his attention was drawn to Gwen. The young serving girl seemed somehow small, her shoulders hunched over the patient's cot, a moist cloth in hand. Merlin stepped slowly out from behind her, eyes drawn to the figure she was attending too, and suddenly the words clicked: _struggling to breathe... burning up... cure him... _words that did not describe a dead man.

Merlin let out a little whoop of joy, throwing his hands in the air triumphantly. Not dead! Dying, by the looks of it, and not pleasantly either. But he wasn't there yet. He looked around, a grin plastered to his face, half expecting to be met with the same elation that currently flowed through him. Instead the room was all the more somber, Gaius and Arthur still hovering over something, having a terse conversation.

"Arthur, it's too dangerous," the elder man said plainly.

"If I don't get the antidote, what happens to Merlin?" Arthur asked, brow furrowed.

"The Mortaeus induces a slow and painful death," Gaius said gravely. "He may hold out of four, maybe five days. But not much longer." The physician seemed to age considerably as he weighed his next words. "Eventually he _will_ die." The prince merely nodded, a look of determination in his eyes, before turning to leave the room.

"Arthur?" Merlin and Gwen said in unison, but he was already closing the door behind him. "Gaius," Gwen continued, Merlin still silently deliberating. "What's happening? Where's he going?"

"To find the antidote," Gaius said. There was a darkness in his eyes that Gwen didn't see - but Merlin did. Arthur was throwing himself in harms way, and for Merlin's sake. After he had just done the same for Arthur. The hair on the back of his neck bristled in anger. That royal _prat._ What good was Merlin's sacrifice, if Arthur was bent on getting himself killed anyway? Before he knew what he was doing, the young warlock began half running, half gliding after his master. He reached a hand towards the door, only to feel his arm slide through with a sickening, sinking feeling. He jerked his hand back, cradling it in surprise.

"Right. That," Merlin mused, glancing down once more at his ghostly figure. He made a mental note to ponder more deeply about his current predicament later, but pushed the thought aside for now, bracing himself instead. With an effort of will he forced his body through the very solid wooden door. A feeling of being dragged through a deep, icy undercurrent washed over him until, with a small pop, he found himself on the other side, entirely whole - or at least figuratively so. He was on the prince's heels in mere seconds - though whether he'd been carried by a surreal speed or simply just appeared there evaded him. Merlin shook his head, the disorientation returning.

"Arthur," he spat. "Arthur stop!" But the prince wasn't listening... typical. "For once in your life would you just swallow that arrogant, pompous pride of yours and listen to me!" Merlin thought he saw a twitch of hesitation in his master's step, and then Arthur did it. He stopped. Hope filled Merlin's chest - had he heard him? "Right," Merlin pressed on, desperate for his words to make any kind of impression on the prince. "Whatever you think you're doing, whatever plan you've got brewing in that thick head -_ please_," he rasped, "don't do it. Arthur, I'm not worth it. Camelot needs you. It's..." he hesitated, realizing he was condemning himself with each passing word. "It's alright." His throat felt raw with emotion. "It'll be alright."

The prince rubbed an anxious hand over his forehead, shoulder's hunched, his other hand on his hip. He took a long steady breath, the looked up. Determination still blazed behind those blue eyes. He pushed open the door in front of him. "Father."

Merlin's heart sunk. The hesitation had not been for him.

"Ah, Arthur. Walk with me," Uther replied, appearing suddenly in the hallway. "Any news on your serving boy?"

"No change," Arthur replied. "Gaius fears he will not survive the week without the antidote." The king paused for a moment, sizing up his son.

"That is unfortunate," he replied, but there was little feeling behind the words. Merlin trailed behind the two, but his focus on their words was quickly fading. The rawness in his throat dug deeper, clawing at his insides.

"Father, the antidote is in the Forest of Balor," Arthur rushed. "He doesn't have to die. With your permission, I would like to-"

"No," Uther said firmly. Merlin sagged with relief, or perhaps it was the pain, he wasn't sure. The king and prince faded from his vision, and the young warlock whimpered involuntarily as the burning reignited. _Focus_, he thought desperately. His mind fought to find something to keep him afloat, finally settling on Arthur's face. He tried to breathe deeply and calm down. Uther would never allow the prince to risk his life for him. It was a comforting thought, though Merlin doubted it would be enough to stop his master. He'd seen the look; it was embedded in his mind. He winced and curled inward. The darkness was going to drag him under again, he couldn't let it disorientate him. When he woke up - _if_ he woke up, he needed to be ready to act. There was a reason he was separated from his body; he still needed to protect Arthur. _Remember_, he pleaded with himself. _Arthur. Forest of Balor. Protect. Arthur. _The words became a mantra in his head as the world rolled viciously around him and pulled him under.

* * *

_Arthur._

Words floated above him, too vague and distant to grasp, his head pounding in protest.

_Forest of Balor_.

There was something pleasantly moist being pulled softly against his skin. He fought the urge to let it lull him back into a slumber.

_Protect._

A hand squeezed his reassuringly. There was comfort. Why was he fighting this? Rest, he should just rest.

_Arthur._

"Arthur... Arthur," the words slipped out in delirium, but there was an urgency to them. A truth he was missing. Arthur. Forest of Balor. Protect... Arthur? _Fight it Merlin_, and with an immense effort he pulled himself free of the pain. He slumped to his knees beside the patient bed, exhausted and weak. He would not be able to keep doing this for long. It was okay; there was just one thing left to do: protect Arthur.

Merlin's ghostly body carried him with alarming speed and assurity. The castle grounds flew away from him before he had hardly committed himself to a course. He ignored the constant icy sensation of drowning that hit him every time he passed through any tangible objects. A field glided beneath him, giving way to a tangle of trees that passed through his vision so quickly that they were little more than tall blurs. And then the world stopped mid-flight. Merlin lurched forward, thrown off balance by the sudden loss of momentum. He toppled to the ground directly behind Arthur. A sigh of relief escaped him; Arthur appeared to be completely unscathed.

Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps Arthur didn't need saving. A slender figure moved through the warlock's kneeling form; he grimaced in displeasure before considering the woman that stood before him. He could tell, even from behind, that she was in rough shape. Her garments hung haggard from her body, her arm bruised, her leg bleeding. But there was something familiar in her shapely skin, something he recognized in the beauty of her disheveled hair. Merlin was quick to his feet, maneuvering around the woman, a sense of unease in his chest.

"Cara," he gasped, recognizing the stunning face of Bayard's servant. She wore a devilish smile as she glared at the back of the prince's head. "Arthur," Merlin shouted, desperation filling his voice. "It... it's a trap." His heart sank, betrayal filling his gut. But Arthur continued onward into the mouth of a looming cave. "It's a trap," Merlin repeated frantically, rushing to his master's side. But Arthur marched on, completely oblivious. "Arthur you dollop head, listen to me! You've got to go back," Merlin pleaded. But his words held no weight. Arthur just kept walking closer to his demise.

Merlin's hands went to his hair, biting his lip. He closed his eyes, reaching for his magic. He wasn't even sure it could be reached in this state, but he had to do something. He had to try. "Eft gewunigen wilgesiþas, þonne wig cume," he bellowed, holding his hand out to Cara. He waited a moment and... nothing. A scream tore through his chest in frustration. He was helpless, utterly useless. All he could to was watch as the pair wove deeper into the cave, muttering desperate unheard pleas along the way.

All he could do was watch as Arthur stepped precariously close to the edge of a deep, unforgiving pit.

All he could do was watch as Cara began chanting the language of magic, _his_ language.

And all he could do was watch, as the stone Arthur stood upon gave way, leaving the young prince hanging unsteadily from the other side.

Merlin's vision darkened, the pain returning. He vaguely noted that he was floating towards Arthur, an exchange occurring between the prince and serving girl, a quick battle between Arthur and an arachnid, a stream of blurs. _No_, he thought desperately, feeling his senses dull, _not yet._ The young warlock focused his attention, he would not - _could_ not abandon Arthur.

The prince clung to the side of the cliff. What little light they had had from Cara's torch long gone with her. "Arthur, it's too dark," Merlin muttered weakly. He nit his brow, a sudden surge of familiar warmth flowing through him, numbing the pain. "Too dark..." he trailed off and lifted his hand, focusing with what ever little concentration was left to him. "Fromum feohgiftum on fæder bearme. Fromum feohgiftum." He felt the fire in his eyes as the magic leaped from his body. A beautiful ball of glowing blue light danced at his finger tips. Merlin couldn't help but smile, a small tear rolling down his cheek.

"Come on then. What are you waiting for? Finish me off!" Arthur cried at Merlin's little happy orb.

"Shut up and climb, clotpole," Merlin replied, and for once the prince listened. It was as Arthur was finally stable on the far ledge that Merlin began to notice the shuffle of a thousand feet racing towards them. He rolled his eyes, clutching vaguely at his chest. "Of course."

Arthur stood, eyes darting between the light that led upward and the flower he had come for.

"Leave them, Arthur," Merlin panted. He had a sinking feeling it was too late anyway, and there simply wasn't time between Merlin's fading strength and the onslaught of arachnids heading their way. "Go!" Merlin demanded. "Save yourself. Follow the light." He was slipping, he could feel it, falling slowly into the deep abyss below. He feared there would be no waking this time. Arthur stubbornly reached for the flower before following Merlin's commands.

"Faster," Merlin whispered, the arachnids flying past him as he floated further. "Go faster. Follow the light!" Arthur climbed up the side of the cave with impressive speed, but it wasn't enough. The spiders were almost upon him and Merlin barely had the will to keep the light lit. "Move!" he cried. "Climb!" And suddenly Arthur and the light disappeared from view. Merlin's heart caught in his chest for a moment, before he realized the arachnids were retreating. Arthur had made it. He had done it.

The warlock closed his eyes, beyond exhaustion. There was pain on some level, but he barely noted it. For far more overwhelming than the pain, there was peace. Merlin held out his arms to let the depth take him. The world rolled, but gently this time, as if swaddling him like a babe. He convulsed slightly, his breath catching in his chest, but the darkness held him tighter. He imagined his mother holding him, and her soft hum soothed his ears as he fought to fill his lungs. He sagged deeply into her arms and whispered a little, "Thank you," before letting go completely.


End file.
